


Private Dancer

by TheBadIdeaBears



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Awkward Boners, Blow Jobs, Kissing, Lapdance, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Viktor missing the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadIdeaBears/pseuds/TheBadIdeaBears
Summary: Chris takes Viktor out on a proxy birthday celebration and Viktor finds himself entranced by one of the strippers in the club. Can he keep his cool or will he make a fool of himself?





	Private Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, Pandora at your service! Holly asked for some Victuuri stripper!AU for her birthday and this was the result. I hope you like it!
> 
> The songs I imagined to be used in this are as follows: Phichit's dance is to [Locked Out of Heaven](https://youtu.be/e-fA-gBCkj0) by Bruno Mars, Yuuri's first dance (in the club) is to [Mirage](https://youtu.be/gGC2zExt_HU) by Lindsey Stirling and Yuuri's private dance for Viktor is to [Black Velvet](https://youtu.be/tT4d1LQy4es) by Alannah Myles.

Viktor's head is already starting to swim as the taxi pulls up and Chris opens the door. They climb out together, staggering a little onto the pavement. Chris leans back into the front window to pay the driver while Viktor looks up at the flashing neon sign above them and the queue of people beside him.

“'Ice Castle'?” he reads, a little line appearing between his eyes. “Is this a strip bar?”

“You know it,” laughs Chris as he straightens up and the taxi drives away. “Merry un-birthday!”

Viktor makes a face. It's not that he finds the idea _distasteful_ exactly, but a strip bar isn't necessarily... _him_. But, he figures, this is what he gets for letting Chris organise anything. He shakes his head, trying to clear it – pre-drinking was Chris' fault too – and the two of them join the end of the queue. It moves reasonably quickly – everyone seems to be pleasantly tipsy rather than blind drunk and therefore not causing problems with the doorman – and soon, with their names on the guest-list, they enter the club. Inside, Ice Castle is a little less dark than Viktor was expecting, and the place smells oddly pleasant, rather than of stale beer and desperation. The upholstery on the seats and sofas looks nicely maintained and the place is clean, the coloured lights bouncing off gleaming metal poles and the polished wood of the stage, where a dancer with red hair in a bob is just retrieving the garments scattered on it. She flashes a bright smile and a wink to the crowd gathered under the stage and disappears behind the heavy purple curtain at the back. The gathered group begins to disperse, going to get drinks or chat.

“You look surprised,” says Chris. “Did you think I was going to take my best friend to a dive to celebrate his birthday?”

“Only a little,” admits Viktor. “You do have varied taste.”

“If you prefer we can find somewhere a little less reputable,” grins Chris. “I don't _really_ mind.”

“Well yeah, you'll go wherever there are poles and people taking their clothes off,” laughs Viktor. “Here is fine.”

“Good, because this place is my favourite,” says Chris. “I think you'll like some of the dancers.”

He deposits Viktor in one of the plush chairs in front of the stage and swans off to go get them both drinks. Viktor settles back in the chair, watching the people around him: customers, male and female, chatting amongst themselves or to the men and women milling around with trays of drinks, the steady beat of the music a pleasant background to the scene. His eyes follow a young man with black hair wearing blue booty shorts who deposits a tray on the bar before disappearing backstage. Viktor raises an eyebrow, wondering if the young man might take the stage soon, and Chris comes back with two large cocktails.

“What's this?” asks Viktor, eyeing the drink Chris hands him.

“Apparently it's a new one Minami came up with a couple of weeks ago,” says Chris. “I'm assured by Celestino himself that the alcohol content is quite delightful.”

Viktor takes a sip and suppresses the urge to cough: the flavour is good but whoever Minami is, he's heavy with the rum.

“Next dance should be starting soon,” says Chris, a bright gleam in his eyes as he lounges in the seat beside Viktor, occasionally waving to passers by. “Let me know if you want a private dance with anyone.”

“How long have you been a member here?” asks Viktor, skimming over the mention of a private dance.

Chris rubs a finger over his chin in thought. “Well it's been open about eighteen months so that.”

“You found it pretty fast then?”

Chris chuckles and replies, “I went to the grand opening.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow again. “What was that like?”

“Beautiful skin everywhere,” grins Chris.

Viktor nods. “Sounds like your kind of night.”

“But not yours?” teases Chris. He nudges Viktor. “Come on, I promise you'll have fun.”

“I will, I will,” says Viktor with a smile. “So do you know who's performing next?”

As Chris opens his mouth to answer, the lights change colour to bright yellows and oranges and a voice rumbles over the speakers.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen!” The voice is deep and sonorous, and the music underneath it fades into the next track: a fun, bouncy tune with a good beat. “I'm very pleased to welcome you to Ice Castle today! Please relax, have a drink and enjoy our next performer: put your hands together for Tweety Pie!”

The purple curtain at the back of the stage opens and a young man, diminutive in stature but with a slightly mischievous grin and yellow costume, saunters forward onto the stage, beginning to dance. Chris whoops loudly from beside Viktor and leans towards him, beaming.

“My personal favourite dancer,” he says. “Make sure you smile!”

Viktor is about to ask what Chris means when Tweety Pie whips a phone out of some well-concealed pocket in his costume and waves it aloft.

“Everyone get in the selfie!” he calls over the music before turning his back and taking a picture of himself with his audience. Viktor's sure that his own face is caught somewhere between confusion and surprise as Tweety takes the photo, and in the back of his mind he's wondering about discretion. As Tweety turns to face the audience again, he winks and says, “Remember to tag yourselves! I love seeing you all!”

After the performance is over and the crowd starts to disperse for refills and conversation, Viktor looks quizzically at Chris.

“Do people ever actually tag themselves?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” Chris replies, pulling out his phone. He scrolls around briefly and then hands his phone to Viktor. “Here's the album.”

Viktor flicks through the pictures for a bit and then says, “Chris you're the only one tagged in most of these.”

Chris pouts. “I know, people are such spoilsports.”

“Also you're in about two-thirds of them,” adds Viktor. “How often do you come here?”

“Well I'm a member – it would be a waste not to come.”

A waitress – Viktor realises it's the first dancer from earlier – comes over and collects their empty glasses. While Chris places another drinks order with her, Viktor glances around again, but his vision is quickly lost as the stage lights go out entirely. He turns his gaze back to the stage, seeing some movement in the darkness as Celestino's voice booms out of the speakers again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you're having a fantastic evening. Please welcome to the stage our next performer, who is tonight debuting a brand new dance for you: Eros!”

A single cold blue light flicks on at the back of the stage, backlighting the silhouette of a young man hanging in a pose on the pole. As the music starts to play – a slow, single violin – he begins to gradually move. His head drops gently backwards, the angle of his chin stark and beautiful against the blue light, and he starts to slowly spin, still holding the pose. His hands move up the pole, getting a secure grip, and Viktor can almost feel in his own body when the music changes. Drums jump into life and the blue light changes into a rainbow of colours that swirl around Eros as he slides down the pole, landing on nimble feet before immediately pushing off again. He turns upside down, arms steady on the pole so that he barely quivers, and Viktor is lost in the routine. Along with his blue booty shorts, Eros wears a simple blue linen shirt, knotted down the front with little ties and with small mirrors embroidered along the hems. Bowed strings begin to be plucked, the tempo fast, and Eros spins and turns, arms and legs forming achingly lovely lines in the air. As the ties on the shirt begin to be pulled open with slender fingers, Viktor understands his stage name completely: he is at once enchanting and seductive, elegant and suggestive. His blue-clad hips rolls through the air and Viktor barely blinks, drinking in every tiny part of the dance, mouth hanging open. The shirt drops to the floor while Eros is hanging upside down off the pole, and Viktor's eyes flick to his face, serene and perfect, before he pulls himself up again to twist himself around the pole.

All too soon, the music fades back to the single violin and the lights to the one blue colour, and Eros finishes his performance. For a long moment, Viktor sits still, entranced, while others around him begin to clap and cheer, until he eventually snaps out of his daze and begins to clap, gaining enough composure to give a brief whistle as Eros bows and exits the stage. Viktor wants to do more – a standing ovation maybe – but no one else seems to be doing so, and he doesn't want to embarrass Chris, so he stays in his seat. He stares into space, only coming back to himself when he sees Chris sit beside him again – when did he get up? Viktor clears his throat.

“So, uh, how would one go about getting a private dance?” He knows he's not being subtle, and a wide grin comes to Chris' face.

“See, I said you'd have fun,” he says. “I already arranged it for you.”

“Really? How did you know?”

“Your jaw might as well have been in your lap,” laughs Chris. “I haven't seen you so focused on anything in a long time.”

“I see,” says Viktor, flushing a little. “But how does it work?”

“There are side lounges,” explains Chris, pointing them out. “Someone will turn up to take you to one and you have it for an hour.”

“An hour?” The time seems almost daunting.

“Yup, happy birthday,” says Chris with another wide grin. Before Viktor can say anything else, Chris spots someone in the crowd and gets up out of his seat, calling, “Phichit!”

He walks away and Viktor watches him go and catch up to Tweety Pie, now carrying a tray and handing out drinks. Chris stops beside him, chatting animatedly, while Viktor gets up, feeling unsure what to do with himself now. He glances around, noting how the place seems busier than when he arrived. As he's thinking about going to chat to Chris and Phichit, a woman with long brown hair appears at his side with another drink.

“Nikiforov?” she asks. When he nods, she hands him the drink and says, “Follow me.”

Viktor does so, weaving through the crowd to one of the doors Chris showed him before, a nervous thrumming in his tummy, and soon finds himself sitting on a sofa in a room full of heavy fabrics and a pole. As soon as the door closes behind him, all sound from the club outside is cut off and he sits in complete silence, eyes wandering the room slowly. He takes a sip of his drink – mercifully less strong than the last – before the door opens again and Eros walks in, closing it behind himself. He turns around to face Viktor and gives him a small smile.

“Hi,” he says.

Viktor gets to his feet. “That dance – your dance – out there, it was amazing!” he blurts out.

Eros gives a little laugh. “Thanks, I worked hard on it.”

“Do you do all your own choreography?” asks Viktor, sure that he's missing the point but genuinely curious.

“Yeah mostly,” says Eros, looking amused.

“That's really impressive!” says Viktor. “How long have you been doing this?”

Eros looks thoughtful. “A little over two years I think. I only started here six months ago, but it's a lot nicer than the last place I was at.”

Viktor's brows furrow. “What was that place like?”

A look of pained hesitation crosses Eros' face like a cloud across a sunny sky before he replies, “If it's okay with you I'd rather not go into it. It's... kind of a mood-killer.”

“Yeah that's fine,” says Viktor. “I'm sorry for bringing it up!”

“It's okay,” smiles Eros. “I sort of did too. What's your name?”

“It's Viktor,” says Viktor.

“Viktor...” His name rolls nicely on Eros' tongue, and Viktor feels a tingle creep up his neck. “It suits you.”

Unsure of what to say to that, Viktor asks, “What's your name?”

“Eros.”

“No, I mean...” He's not sure how to phrase it, but Eros helps him out.

“Oh sorry, force of habit,” he says – Viktor thinks he looks a little flustered. “It's Yuuri.”

“That suits you too,” says Viktor.

Yuuri smiles and they fall into silence. Viktor smiles at him, he smiles back, and they almost not to be in a club at all. Eventually Yuuri clears his throat.

“So, uh... what kind of dance would you like to begin with?” he asks.

“Er...” Viktor shrugs. “I'm not sure?”

Yuuri laughs, the sound reaching inside Viktor and strumming on his heartstrings.

“You don't do this much do you?”

“Nope.”

Yuuri laughs again and Viktor can't keep himself from joining in.

“Well how about...” A new expression appears on Yuuri's face and Viktor finds himself face to face with Eros once more. “... you sit back and relax...” Yuuri puts a hand on Viktor's chest and pushes him gently but insistently. Viktor starts backing up, Yuuri following, until his calves hit the sofa and he sits back down. “... and I'll see what I can do for you.”

Viktor sits in silence as Yuuri goes over to the music system on the wall and a heavy, smooth guitar riff kicks in. Yuuri looks over his shoulder at Viktor, who gulps at the look in his eyes. Yuuri walks slowly over, shoulders rolling and bobbing to the beat, until he's standing in front of Viktor. He runs one hand over Viktor's shoulder, fingers trailing along his collarbone over his shirt and pushing him back so he lounges comfortably on the sofa. Yuuri, still dancing, sinks slowly to his knees and his hands run down from Viktor's chest to his hips and then to his thighs. Viktor feels tingles through his trousers in the wake of Yuuri's touch and watches Yuuri's gaze running over him before their eyes meet. Yuuri gives him a half-smile and leans forward, using his hands on Viktor's knees for support as he runs his body along Viktor's, inches between them as he stands. Yuuri's hands caress Viktor's neck and shoulders, his hips unceasingly rocking from side to side to the beat of the song as it shifts from the into the bridge and then the chorus. He pulls back, standing a few feet away and dancing. His hands run up and down his torso invitingly and Viktor watches his tongue poke out to prod at the corner of his mouth as he moves to the music. His eyes flick to Viktor's again and he seems to bite his lip on a smile as he turns slowly on the spot. Returning to the floor, he crawls on all fours towards Viktor, gaze raking over him again. He bites his lip once more as he comes to a stop in front of Viktor and rises up on his knees so they're eye-level. Yuuri's hands go back to Viktor's knees and he undulates his shoulders and neck, dropping his head and rolling it back in a circle, exposing the pale column of his throat and the lovely skin of his chest and abdomen. When he straightens up, he catches Viktor's eyes again and lets out a little chuckle.

“Are you okay?” asks Viktor, and Yuuri pauses, hands still on his knees, looking unsure about whether to say what he's thinking.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just...” He pauses, his silence filled with the steady beat of the music before he continues, “I'm not really used to clients looking me in the eyes as much as you.”

Viktor can feel the flush run from his cheeks up to his ears and down his neck. “Oh sorry!” he stammers and Yuuri laughs once again.

“It's fine,” he says. “I don't mind, it's just a little different.”

Despite Yuuri's words, Viktor's blush takes a while to recede. Yuuri goes back to dancing and Viktor tries to make an effort to take in his body – really, it's gorgeous – but his gaze returns irresistibly to Yuuri's face. The look in his eyes is intense and deep, hanging somewhere between the music, his body and Viktor, and sometimes his tongue pokes out and runs along the apex of his lip. Viktor's alcohol-dipped mind can't help but think of that exquisite face in other contexts: blushing, panting, coming apart. He feels a stirring in the pit of his stomach, only intensified when Yuuri backs up and all but sits in his lap, one hand snaking round backwards to caress the back of Viktor's neck. The feeling of Yuuri warm and moving so rhythmically in his lap makes him bite back a moan that he's sure Yuuri can hear – his ear is right by Viktor's mouth after all. After what feels like an age (but in reality is probably less than thirty seconds), Yuuri slips off Viktor's lap and dances some more, and Viktor's eyes return to his face, just as seductive as before. As the final part of the song begins, Yuuri straddles Viktor and presses their chests together, and as the guitar riff fades out, Yuuri stays there, gently panting, nose inches from Viktor's. Their eyes are locked, blue gazing into brown, and Viktor never wants to look away.

When Yuuri begins to pull away, Viktor throws caution to the wind and grabs his wrist. Yuuri barely has time to give him a puzzled look before their lips meet. Yuuri's lips are soft and warm and perfect and Viktor kisses him earnestly. After a moment's surprised inaction, Yuuri begins to kiss back, hands coming up to Viktor's collar to grasp at it. Taking this as encouragement, Viktor opens his lips and Yuuri follows suit, their tongues touching and massaging against one another. Viktor loses himself in the feeling of Yuuri's hands on his neck, their lips and tongues moving together, and the quiet, beautiful sounds Yuuri is making, but suddenly Yuuri pulls away. He looks Viktor with wide eyes and and his fingers drift to his own kiss-swollen lips, as though to confirm they had really just done what they did.

“Sorry,” he almost whispers, and Viktor watches a slow flush bloom on his face. “I... I can't.”

“No I'm sorry!” says Viktor quickly. “I didn't think about what I was doing, I just got caught up in the moment!”

“It's okay,” says Yuuri, but he's looking vaguely sick. “I did too.”

“I thought...” Viktor hesitates. “I thought you liked it.”

“I did!” says Yuuri quickly, eyes wide. “Just... I'm not supposed to fool around with clients. It's... not what I'm paid for.” As he says this, he clambers off Viktor, who leans forward in his seat.

“That wasn't my intention!” he insists, and Yuuri gives him a small smile.

“I believe you.” The tone is sincere, sympathetic.

“I'm sorry!” says Viktor again. “I don't want to get you into trouble!”

“It's fine,” says Yuuri. “Don't worry about it.”

Viktor presses his lips together to keep himself from protesting ant further and the pair of them are silent, throwing glances to one another. For something to do more than anything else, Viktor picks up his drink and sips it, making a face: leaving it to sit seems to have intensified the flavour of the alcohol.

“Do you not like it?” asks Yuuri.

“It's... a little strong perhaps?” he replies, and Yuuri grins.

“Yeah Minami is a demon but he's really sweet,” he says, coming to sit next to Viktor on the sofa. “I'm guessing this is your first time here?”

Viktor nods. “My friend Chris brought me here for my birthday.”

Yuuri smiles. “Happy birthday!”

“Well, this is kind of a proxy celebration,” explains Viktor.

“Were you busy on your actual birthday?” asks Yuuri.

Viktor laughs. “Everyone's usually celebrating Christmas with their families.”

“Your birthday is on Christmas day?” Viktor nods at Yuuri's wide eyes. “Wow, I'm sorry!”

“Don't be!” Viktor laughs. “I like that others get gifts on my birthday – it feels like everyone's celebrating with me!”

Yuuri laughs. “Fair enough.”

“When's your birthday?” asks Viktor, settling into the sofa cushions.

They fall into comfortable conversation. Yuuri curls up on the sofa beside Viktor, half an arm's length between them, and Viktor relaxes, turning his body and resting his head on one hand to look at Yuuri as they chat. Without the pressure of expectation, the words between them are easy and free, giving rise to smiles and lingering looks. When their time together is up, it seems too quick to come, and Viktor feels a stirring in his chest. He can't let Yuuri slip away – he knows that for sure now. As they rise from the sofa, he smiles at Yuuri, hoping that the thumping of his heart isn't too obvious.

“What time do you finish work?” he asks in a rush.

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him. “Three or four.”

Viktor steels himself. “Could I request the pleasure of your company after?”

It's cheesier than he wanted: he always gets too wordy when he's nervous, he knows that. Still, he supposes, it gets the point across. He hangs in the moment, keeps his mouth shut as he watches the changing expressions flitting across Yuuri's beautiful face. His heart sinks when Yuuri's eyes finally meet his and they're swimming.

“Look, I...” Yuuri's brows furrow. “I'm not like that, I already said.”

“Like what?” Viktor knows it's a dumb question.

“I'm... I'm not a prostitute. I – I just dance.”

Viktor's eyes widen. “No, wait, I–”

“I should go.”

Before Viktor can stammer out another word, Yuuri opens the door and leaves, and he's left alone in the room once more.

 

***

 

The car park outside the back of the club smells like rain and tobacco smoke, and Viktor struggles to think of a less romantic setting for what he's trying to do. Even with Chris' encouragement, he's not sure if this will work, but he knows he has to try. Chris' words roll around in his head like a bowling ball, heavy and important. 'You can't let your birthday celebrations end badly just because you suck at explaining yourself.'

And so Viktor finds himself outside the Ice Castle staff entrance at – he checks his watch yet again – twenty-seven minutes past three in the morning, waiting for something to happen. He knows Chris spoke to a few dancers, but not much of what was said (he was downing a pint of water at the time on Chris' instruction to try and sober up a little) and he's trying not to think about how not seeing Yuuri for the rest of the night probably meant he was being avoided. At Chris' insistence, Viktor tried to enjoy the other performers, but the whole time he was thinking of the beautiful dark-haired dancer who made his body come alive.

He checks his watch once more: three twenty-eight. How can time _drag_ so? There's a fluttering – or rather a battering – in his stomach that he knows will ruin his chances for the second time tonight if he doesn't get it under control. He tries to breathe slowly and deeply despite his racing pulse. When Chris sidles up to him, he barely registers, trying to calm down.

“Wow, anyone would think you were meeting royalty,” chuckles Chris. “Just relax, he'll like you fine!”

Viktor releases his breath and checks his watch again: half past.

“Man, you know what would suck?” asks Chris.

“Don't say it.”

“If he already went home.”

“Why are you like this?” There's no malice in the words, but also less anxiety, Viktor is relieved to realise. As they both stand there the door opens and a small gang comes out: Phichit, the woman with long brown hair who took Viktor to the private lounge earlier and – _yes_ it's him – Yuuri. He's wearing glasses and more clothing now, but it's definitely him.

Viktor looks to Chris, who grins and they approach the group. Chris calls greetings to them and they stop, returning them, Phichit and the woman throwing knowing glances at Yuuri, whose wide eyes are locked with Viktor's. Anything Chris is saying is lost on Viktor, who steps towards Yuuri.

“Can we talk?” he asks quickly, before he can lose his nerve. Yuuri looks reluctant, but Phichit nudges him.

“Go on, I can wait,” he tells Yuuri.

“Okay,” says Yuuri, stepping off to one side with Viktor. They stand in an arched recess with the others in sight, and Viktor clears his throat.

“Firstly I want to apologise for any misunderstanding,” he says. “I err... I get nervous talking to people I think are gorgeous, and you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met.” Yuuri blushes a little but Viktor presses on. “And I wanted to tell you that this has been one of the best un-birthdays I've ever had. The only one that beats it is the time my dad got me a pair of ice ska– shit sorry, I'm rambling again!” He takes a steadying breath. “But... I really enjoyed talking to you. The longer we talked the longer I wanted to carry on. I'm asking you – the real you – Yuuri, not Eros. I want to _know_ you.”

Yuuri stares silently at him, mouth hanging slightly open, seeming dazed before he eventually coughs.

“Uh...” He seems to fumble for words, and a blush creeps into face like when Viktor kissed him earlier. Viktor bites his lip on an exclamation, wary of ruining the moment with babble.

“Really?” Yuuri eventually asks, genuine disbelief under his confused expression.

“Really,” says Viktor, letting a smile come to his face. “I think you're enchanting and I knew I would regret it if I left without telling you so.”

The flush on Yuuri's face deepens and he stammers, “Th-thanks. No one's ever said that before.”

Viktor laughs softly. “Well now someone has.”

Yuuri gives him a sheepish smile and looks at him properly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Viktor repeats.

“Okay,” says Yuuri, nodding. “Let's give it a try.”

Viktor's face splits into a grin and he has to keep from jumping for joy. The grin seems to be enough of a signal to their audience, however, as they hear whoops and turn to see Chris and the other dancers cheering in the middle of the car park. Yuuri laughs, and the remaining tension lurking inside Viktor dissipates. He waves to Chris and returns his attention to Yuuri.

“Do you know anywhere nearby we could go?” he asks.

Yuuri seems to think for a moment before nodding. “Just around the corner.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Viktor smiles and allows Yuuri to lead the way from the car park and down the road. Viktor notices Chris leaving with the other two, one arm around Phichit's shoulders, and smiles to himself as he and Yuuri turn a corner onto a quieter street. They follow it down and then stop at a door, where Yuuri pulls out keys and and they go inside into a stairwell. On the second floor, Yuuri unlocks another door into a small but neat flat. He flashes a look of confusion at Yuuri, who smiles.

“Sorry, I wasn't sure there'd be anywhere nice open,” he explains. “Figured it would be easier to come here. Sorry for the mess!”

Viktor smiles. “It's fine,” he says. “Thank you for having me!”

Yuuri takes off his jacket and hangs it up while Viktor crosses to the window, grinning at the frames photos on the sill.

“Are these your parents?” he asks and Yuuri nods. “They look really nice!”

Yuuri laughs. “A lot of people say that.”

Viktor looks at Yuuri and sees something unreadable in his eyes. He stops short, any words he might have been about to say caught under his tongue.

“I'm sorry for being hesitant before,” Yuuri says, still gazing up at Viktor. “Just things have been kind of weird in the past when clients have come on to me and it... tends to get complicated really fast. I just...” He trails off, apparently considering his next words, before continuing, “I feel different about you. No one's ever stuck in my head like this.”

Viktor stays silent as Yuuri steps closer to him, taking off and putting down his glasses. He seems to consider Viktor for a moment before grabbing his tie and pulling him down into a kiss. Despite the gesture, Viktor can feel the slight tremble in Yuuri's lips, kissing him back slowly and sensuously, trying to ease him into it. As Yuuri's hands settle on his chest, Viktor puts his arms around Yuuri's waist and pulls him close, a gentle sigh escaping both of them. When Yuuri opens his lips, Viktor runs his tongue over them softly, teasing just a little. Yuuri brings one hand up to the back of Viktor's hair and Viktor groans quietly when Yuuri gently pulls. When he feels Yuuri start to untuck his shirt, Viktor trails kisses along Yuuri's jaw, and hears him making delicious little moans in response. Once his shirt is untucked,Viktor feels Yuuri start to unbutton it, and he sucks on Yuuri's earlobe, eliciting a louder moan. He wastes no time in shrugging off his shirt when he can, dropping it on the floor, running his hands up Yuuri's body to pull off his t-shirt. Yuuri's skin under his hands is beautifully smooth and warm and he pulls him close once again. With their bare chests together and his nose and lips against Yuuri's neck, Viktor can feel the flutter of Yuuri's pulse and knows his own is the same. Yuuri gasps as Viktor bites at his shoulder and Viktor moans when he feels Yuuri's blunt nails dig into his back. His fingers stroke gently up Yuuri's spine, making him shiver against him as their lips return to one another. Yuuri nibbles at Viktor's lip and Viktor feels himself melt, even before Yuuri murmurs against his lips.

“Bedroom?” he gets out between kisses and Viktor nods, breathless.

They start to slowly cross the living room, lips still locked. Yuuri tugs at Viktor's belt, opening his button and fly quickly, and Viktor steps out of his trousers, toeing off his shoes as smoothly as he can with his whole body tingling so wonderfully. Yuuri pushes the bedroom door open with his backside and walks backwards until his calves hit the bed and they fall onto it together. Viktor crawls over Yuuri, one hand coming to rest on his tummy. Yuuri tilts his head to kiss Viktor once more and Viktor's fingers ghost over Yuuri's chest in little spirals and lines. When he brushes over Yuuri's nipples and gets a soft whimper in response, he smiles against Yuuri's lips and does it again. Yuuri whines louder and Viktor nuzzles his nose behind Yuuri's ear.

“You sound so beautiful,” he murmurs, feeling warmth come into Yuuri's face at his words – or perhaps at Viktor's breath in his ear. At the sensation of Viktor's fingers walking down his abdomen and to the front of his jeans, Yuuri lets out a high moan.

“Please don't stop,” he whispers desperately and Viktor complies, flicking open the button and pulling down the zip in one motion. He dips his hand into Yuuri's jeans, palming his erection through his underwear, and Yuuri shudders, gasping. He grips at Viktor's shoulder as deft fingers stroke up and down his cock, head tipping back into the pillow. Viktor kisses Yuuri's shoulder, starting to slowly move down his body as his hand continues its ministrations, leaving a trail of kisses and licks in his wake. He licks at Yuuri's nipples, more soft moans coming to his ears, and carries on down, eventually biting gently at Yuuri's hipbone.

Yuuri lifts up his hips to help Viktor pull off his jeans and underwear, kicking off his shoes as they go. The first lick to his cock makes him jump with pleasure, his back arching, and Viktor guides one of Yuuri's hands to the back of his silvery head.

“Show me,” he says, blue eyes locked with Yuuri's brown, and the solemnity he shows seems to render Yuuri speechless because all he does is nod and Viktor smiles.

They start up a slow rhythm. Viktor begins with kisses and more licks, the fingers of one hand drawing shapes on Yuuri's thighs while the other slowly pumps his cock. Yuuri's fingers in his hair tighten when Viktor closes his lips around the head and gently sucks, tongue flicking at the underside. Slowly Viktor starts to bob his head up and down, feeling encouragement from Yuuri's hand. His eyes stay trained on Yuuri's face, watching for his reactions as he continues, and when Yuuri looks down at Viktor his eyes are full of lust, pupils wide over flushed cheeks and a slight sheen of sweat. Soon Viktor feels Yuuri gently tugging on his hair and he slides his cock out of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks, getting a nod in response.

“You were going to make me come if you carried on,” Yuuri gasps.

Viktor laughs. “That's kind of the idea.”

Yuuri bites his lip, eyes unfocused. “I... I wanted to come with you.”

Viktor feels a flutter in his stomach as Yuuri pulls him up into another kiss, groaning when his still-clothed erection brushes against Yuuri's thigh. As he lies down next to Yuuri, he wriggles out of his underwear and tosses it away. The brush of Yuuri's searching fingers sends a jolt of pleasure through Viktor's body and when Yuuri starts to pump his hand, Viktor moans against his lips. He reaches out to do the same to Yuuri, his hand faltering a little as he shakes with pleasure, and feels Yuuri grip a little tighter (and _god_ that friction!). Yuuri bites Viktor's bottom lip and pulls at it, and Viktor groans again, grinning at the rush he feels. He dives back in for more kisses and feels Yuuri's hand speeding up. Their groans and pants mingle between their kisses and lips and Viktor can feel that coil in his stomach tightening, almost painful.

“Yuuri,” he breathes. “I – I'm getting close.”

“I am too,” gasps Yuuri. “I – ah! Viktor!”

“ _Yuuri_.”

They come together, crying out loud, their hands working to make sure they ride out the mutual wave of pleasure crashing down on them. Eventually their movements still and Viktor pulls Yuuri in for one last tender kiss. When they part again, Yuuri rolls away onto his other side to grab tissues off his bedside table and they clean up before flopping beside one another. Yuuri curls into Viktor's side, resting his head on Viktor's chest, and their hands seek one another out. Their fingers brush together, tracing the lines and edges of each other's hands. Viktor leaves a lingering kiss to Yuuri's forehead, inhaling the clean, lemony scent of his hair. The sleepy silence stretches out around them, warm and comfortable – Viktor barely hears the sound of a distant siren outside. Eventually, he has to break the silence.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, and he can't keep the anxious tremor from his voice because _what if he says no?_

Yuuri lifts his head from Viktor's chest and leans in for a slow kiss. Viktor sighs as Yuuri pulls away and they gaze into each other's eyes. Yuuri smiles.

“I think so,” he says, and Viktor can't keep the grin from his face, even as Yuuri kisses him again.

 


End file.
